A Malfoy Christmas Eve
by islandpooka
Summary: Inspired by real-life conversations with a good friend of mine, and the reactions from Facebook to screenshots of said conversation. Blaise is sarcastic, Hermione is devious, it's just a brief one-shot that popped into my head. One use of F word. (Note: all of these conversations are nearly verbatim, just adjusted for magic) COMPLETE


"When does it hatch?"

Hermione laughed at her husband's best friend and rubbed her rounded belly. "Not soon enough."

"Sound painful. And messy."

"They spell away the pain and mess these days."

"Still."

"You know," she said, with a devious glimmer in her eyes, "if it weren't for the potential child abuse charges, I had considered asking you to be godfather."

He shot her a sardonic look. "I have absolutely _no_ idea how to interact with a child."

"I'm aware," she said with a smirk. "Thus the concern about child abuse. Knowing you, the child would be kenneled whilst you played with your chemistry set."

"First of all, it isn't a 'chemistry set', it is the most advanced potions lab in the country. Not the most advanced _privately owned_ potions lab in the country, it is THE most advanced potions lab in the country."

"Except you can't complete your next potion until you get that pewter pestle," she interrupted.

"Don't get me started. And Luna refused to break into the Owl Post Distribution Center for me in order to retrieve it. How one, tiny, insignificant three sickle part is preventing me from completing my three year project is beyond me, and yet… here I stand."

"You're sitting," Draco said, walking in with a glass of Ogden's finest in hand.

"Technicalities," Blaise said, waving him off. "I'm trying to talk to your wife. She's insufferable."

"I love it," Draco said.

"Bully for you," Blaise replied. "Now, back to the parasite you'll be hatching soon, I might very well kennel a child to keep them away from touching anything in my potions lab, but I'm not a monster. I'd leave food _and_ water for them. Perhaps even a bit of leather to knaw on."

"How magnanimous of you," Draco sniped.

"The bigger ones play fetch, right?"

"They can," Hermione said, ignoring Draco's glare.

"I can do that. Deactivated snitches and such."

Draco muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "he won't play fetch with my heir."

"I don't know that our child would ever forgive me, though," Hermione said. "If they asked why I picked you, I mean. I can see it now. 'Your Uncle Blaise really REALLY hated children, so I thought it would be hilarious to foist mine on him.'"

"That would, potentially, be a greater prank than any I have ever pulled. Possibly, better than even the Weasley twins."

"Oh, now you've done it!" Draco exclaimed. "Now she _has_ to do it."

"That would be quite the Christmas gift," Hermione laughed. "Speaking of which, yours will arrive soon. A touch late, but better late than never, eh?"

"Oh blast, were we doing gifts this year?"

"It's very small," Hermione reassured him. "Just something small you mentioned wanting."

"Ah, well. I did get you nearly half an orchestra earlier this year."

Draco lit up with delight, "Indeed you did!"

"Indeed," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

What had started with Hermione complaining to Blaise about Draco's infatuation with a constantly playing a plastic whistle he had picked up from her childhood bedroom had turned into a practical deluge of instruments.

Each day, Draco received something new.

First, it was a plastic trumpet. The next day, a small bongo drum arrived. Then a train whistle. Then a harmonica, a recorder, finger cymbals, a triangle, and finally, the Fizzing Whizbee on top, an accordion. Draco had learned the first two bars of Happy Birthday and had proceeded to play _only_ those two bars for nearly a week before the accordion mysteriously disappeared.

"That was gift enough," Hermione said, eye nearly twitching at the thought of that Merlin forsaken accordion.

"I'm hurt," Blaise said, miming a shot to the heart, "I would have thought my presence was the gift."

"Not unlike the vase from Aunt Hilda," Hermione muttered, "Expensive and best kept out of the sight of guests."

"Oh I do like being called expensive. Speaking of, get me a finger of the good stuff, would you Draco?"

"I don't know why we're friends with you," Draco laughed, but obliging his friend with the _accio'd_ bottle.

"I am a delight," Blaise said, matter-of-factly.

"So you keep telling us," Hermione said with a roll of her eyes.

"And _who_ was it who introduced you two?" Blaise asked, eyebrow cocked.

"Hogwarts, I believe it was," Draco said.

"I mean, after you stopped being a spoiled prat and Granger stopped being an insufferable know it all."

"You," Hermione sighed.

"And _who_ was it who told you to get over your past issues and give it a go?"

"My therapist suggested something of the sort," Hermione said, cheekily.

Blaise ignored her. "And _who_ had to listen to both of you go on and on about how much you were interested in the other before ever getting your knickers out of a twist and doing something about it?"

"My owl, Harry Potter, Theo Nott," Draco rattled off.

"And _who_ told Draco to stop being so self conscious and just shag her already?"

"You _what?_" Hermione exclaimed.

"Oopsie," Blaise said, while Draco glared at him balefully.

"Well, all I'm saying is that the only reason you're hosting that swotty spawn in your womb-"

"Ew, don't call it womb."

"-is because I told Draco to nut up or shut up."

"Well, in that case, thank you for the Christmas gift, Blaise." Hermione said, devious look in her eyes once more.

"Uh oh," Draco said under his breath.

"You are so very welcome, Madam Malfoy," Blaise said with a deep nod of his head.

"And such a Christmas gift deserves reciprocity."

"Of course. I accept baked goods, gold, potion supplies, trips to Belize…"

"So, it's official. You will be our child's godfather."

"Fuck."


End file.
